Seen

Losing it. (Octavia)

My world washes away and is replaced with panic and awe. Before allowing myself to get lost in the sensation of him I drop my arms and stumble back. He steps forward "Octavia, I..." he pauses to look down at his hands, I wait for the wake-up call, my phone to chime, my doorbell, for whatever it is that is bound to wake me up. But then he looks up at me. My dreams have never gotten this far. "Uh." I straighten myself, turning on my heel I head back towards the house. "Nope. I am not doing this. This isn't happening." I can hear faint steps in the grass close behind, but I refuse to turn back around. "What aren't you doing?" I hear him say. I pick up my pace finally reaching the door. I don't bother closing the door, it wouldn't matter if I did, and head to the living room. I don't know why I choose the living room, but I sit on the couch and quickly hop back up when I notice him waiting in the doorway I had just come through. I make my way around the couch, pausing and gawking at him, throwing my hands up, and continuing around the couch. I cross my arms attempting to check my reality. I am still solid, just made of air and floating amongst the clouds. No that would be too easy, for this to be a dream. That truth stops me and I whirl to stare at him. Still leaning against the door frame, I stand between the patterned couch and the coffee table. "How the hell is this happening?" I startle myself at the almost shout the cames from me. "You tell me." He steps forward and picks up a book from the table at the end of the couch. He holds it up next to his face, my book, my book about him. My mouth flops open releasing a slowly choked laugh. I pull my fingers through my hair looking around for the one out-of-place thing that will wake me up because this right now has to be a dream. "What are you looking for?" he sounds irritated. I scoff, "You're right." I drop my hands down dramatically, "This is definitely real, there is no mistaking that tone of yours.""That's what has convinced you?""Other than you entering my home without permission, yeah." And in just a few words, it feels like nothing has changed. "I wasn't even supposed to be back here." He says pointing to the ground. "You left. You left, that's right. I remember, oh god you left!" Overwhelming pure rage washes over me, but it isn't hot. It's ice-cold just like the truth. "I had no choice." "Bullshit. You chose." I cross my arms, not wanting to hear his excuses, but not willing to end this just yet. "You have no idea what you are talking about." His eyes drop to the book in his hands. "It doesn't matter, remember? You are just a figment of my imagination." The last few words hit hard against my tongue. "You couldn't possibly imagine how hard it was for me to leave you." His voice matches my anger despite his words."You're right. I was too busy being left to think about how you might feel."He looks up to me and I have to actively keep myself stationed in place. He steps forward, I hold my breath but am disappointed when he takes a seat on the couch. "Let me explain.""The truth." He nods and gestures to the seat next to him, but I stay standing. "When your father died-" he is cut off by the sound of my front door opening. "Hey! I know it's your cleaning day, but I found this old copy of twi-" Sloane stops in the doorway to the living room, startled, takes one look at me and then at Atlas on the couch. "Oh...shit." Then continues to kneel.I am about to question it when Atlas abruptly stands. "No need for that, get up." Sloane follows his instruction, before Atlas smiles and reaches out his hand, Sloane meets him and smiles back. "Are you back? For good?" Sloane asks"I am," Atlas says."No..he is not." I cut him off when he turns to speak. "Explain. How do you know each other?"They exchange a glance, my patient begins to wear thin, but then Atlas speaks. "Sloane a good friend of mine." That's it. That's all he says. "Not good enough."Sloane sighs. "I am a familiar, Atlas sent me to guard you. To keep you safe." I hear the words, but they don't quite penetrate. Instead, I slump back in the armchair behind me. "You knew?" is all I can get out."Knew about Atlas? Sort of. He didn't give me many details." Sloane sits on the couch and leans forward. "Details are unnecessary. Your job is to protect her, her protection had nothing to do with me.""Why would I need protection?" I ask trying to focus on one of the millions of questions in my head at a time."Because of who your parents are," Sloane says simply."What? My parents were professors."Atlas sighs and comes to kneel before me. An image I never thought I would see. "There is a lot to explain, but the first thing you need to know is that I never wanted to leave you. In fact, I was never too far away." "Why didn't I remember the truth? Why did I think I imagined you?" I whisper afraid of the answer. "You hated me, love. I couldn't make you want me around, I couldn't help you grieve no matter how much I tried, but it helped you to blame me." He says, his voice low and melodic just as it sounded in my dreams. In my memories. I don't say anything and eventually, he continues. "It was better if you were...relieved of me.""Says who?" the question flies from my tongue, the rawest question. "Me." He says. "You decided that I would be better off without you?" I stand, but he follows me smoothly. I glare up at him. "You decided to leave me when I was vulnerable and broken.""Octavia you hated me, I was the one who broke you, I wasn't going to make you suffer." He says, his tone strained. "Grief broke me. But when you left I wasn't just left with grief. When you left my heart wasn't broken, it was obliterated. This entire new reality, my person, ceased to exist instantaneously with my father. Everything that brought me comfort was gone! I needed you, but you were a world away!" "I didn't just take off Octavia, I was there. I waited...I waited for months for you to grieve. I just couldn't...""Couldn't what?""I couldn't face the look on your face when you saw me and would remember.""I needed you closer," I whisper, realizing the truth in his words, I remember how much I hated him. Or really how much I wished I hated him. "You sent me away and I couldn't force you to talk to me. So I waited, but every time I came close, you pushed me away.""I panicked and you left," I say"I panicked." He whispers. The silence is thick, but I can't bring myself to look away from Atlas. The shock of seeing him, the shock of the truth, all mixed together in a confusion inside my head. In my chest. The sound of something hitting the coffee table pulls my gaze away from Atlas. Sloane is sneaking away, "No you don't! Why didn't you tell me?" I ask."Because I ordered Sloane not to," Atlas says."Fine, but seriously you let me write a whole book about it and didn't say anything? Didn't discourage it or anything?" I say gesturing to the book on the table. Sloane looks confused and then follows my gaze."You wrote this book about you and Atlas?" they pick up the book and flip through it quickly."Yeah? I told you about the whole book, you don't remember?" I ask."No, I remember. But I didn't know anything about you too." Sloane is now stopped on a page reading and takes a seat back on the couch. "Great." I drop my hands down. "It really is a nice story," Atlas says, still standing close, I look up at him. He looks sincere."You read my book?" I shouldn't care. I should still be angry, but I can't help how much seeing him again has affected me."Of course I did. I wouldn't miss out on our story." He winks and suddenly I am twenty-two again and we are sitting on my roof discussing the meaning of life."I need some air," I say stepping around Atlas, heading through the kitchen and out the back door. I collapse on the back porch steps, forcing myself to focus on the colors highlighting the sky as the sun begins to set. How many times had I secretly wished that the world I thought I had created in my head was real? The hours I spent writing and completely enveloped in the lives of my characters, but really everything I wrote was from my memory. Every sweet line and feeling I felt is written down and he read it. He knew, how I felt, he understood how much he meant to me. Yet he stayed away. I close my arm tighter around me attempting to alleviate the ache. All of the memories come back to me like a warm blanket against the frigid cold. So much of who I am is because of meeting Atlas. I can't stop the tears and I find that I don't care at this moment. I have been alone for so long and now he is just back. My person. My best friend. I quickly wipe my face when I hear the footsteps come up behind me. Atlas sits down next to me. "Talk to me." I scoff. What do I say? How do I explain that I can decipher my fear of losing him again and my wish for him to go back to being imaginary? "You meant a lot to me." Vulnerability doesn't feel like vulnerability, just the truth until you don't trust the person you tell. "You mean everything to me." I close my eyes at his words. How is this happening? "This isn't fair." my voice is shaky and uncertain. "I know. I don't expect your forgiveness, I just need you to trust me one more time."My head snaps in his direction, but before I can correct him Sloane comes up behind us."Octavia, come inside." I turn to look up at them, but their gaze is straight ahead. I follow Sloane's attention to see something swiftly move through the tree line, like a shadow. "What was that?""Familiars."